Tarman was not a large vessel. Silence rippled out from Tats’s words. The conversation on the roof of the deckhouse stilled. Heads turned.

“That was different.” Greft tried to clear his throat. He leaned over the side and spat, but it didn’t come off his mouth cleanly. He wiped his ragged sleeve across his mouth, looked from Tats to Harrikin. “No. Or fight now.”

Tats and Harrikin exchanged glances. Tats spoke for them. “No fight, Greft. I know you’re not a healthy man. And I don’t want to cross Leftrin about fighting on his deck. I didn’t come to you to start a fight. I came to let you know that tomorrow we’re taking the boat and the gear out at first light, to try to get some serious hunting and fishing done. No insult intended, but you’re not holding up that end of things anymore. So, for the good of us all, Harrikin and I are stepping up to it. And we need to use the boat and gear.”

Greft turned away from them to look out over the water again. “No,” he said in a neutral but factual voice. Did his back dare Tats to attack him? If so, Tats refused the bait.

“Just saying that’s what is going to happen,” Tats said quietly. He glanced again at Harrikin, who nodded. As one, they turned away from Greft and sauntered off down the deck. Whispers in the dark behind them turned into muted conversation. Thymara stayed where she was, staring out over the water and darkness. She did not care for Greft, but she felt heartsick it had come to this.

Greft seemed to feel her regard. “Funny?” he asked her in a voice gone harsh.

“No,” she replied shortly. “Tragic. I’m sorry this happened to you, Greft. For what it’s worth, you have my pity.”

When he turned to face her, the blue in his eyes shone with anger. “Keep your pity for yourself. Useless, stupid whore.”

The insult stunned her, not just for the seething vehemence in his voice but because it baffled her. Useless? Stupid? Whore? Greft had turned and was walking away before she realized that it wasn’t intended to make sense, only to insult. He’d actually expected her to be enjoying his downfall. “You don’t know me at all,” she said into his absence. She glanced toward the other keepers. “I don’t think anyone does anymore.”

The other keepers had resumed their activities. Alum was trying to give Boxter a haircut, with helpful advice from Kase and Lecter. Davvie was watching and laughing. Tats was sitting with Harrikin; Sylve was leaning against Harrikin. All three were talking softly about something. “I miss you, Rapskal,” she said to the night. “I miss having a friend.”

An unexpected echo bounced back to her. Stop being stupid. You have a dragon. You no longer need human companions. Go to sleep.